You are awake, she silently said. What thoughts keep you from sleep? Are they the same as mine?
Phoebe wasn’t certain how long she stared into the faint shimmering silk of the overhead canopy before the darkness of sleep lured her away from her tormenting thoughts.
Chapter Eighteen
The next day, Phoebe called upon her brother to bid him adieu. The duke was still away on a trip to Italy, so she had been spared meeting him on this trip. Not that she was at all anxious about a confrontation with her father. Phoebe suspected it was the annual trip he took there with his mistress. It was always under the pretext of meeting business investors, but she had been able to tell because the duchess would spend each night at a ball as if to distract herself from the knowledge that her husband was with another woman. Often, Phoebe wondered if the duchess had a similar discreet arrangement.
She had left a note at home for Hugh, and once he finished his meeting with his man of affairs, he would pay a visit to Richard. She knocked on the library door and opened it, smiling at the sight of Evie and her brother locked in a passionate embrace.
Evie pulled away and patted her elegant coiffeur, a delightful blush on her lovely face.
“I shall leave you both alone,” she said, with a wide smile at Phoebe. “When your lord arrives, I will insist that he stay for dinner. I will go and organize the menu now.”
Phoebe nodded, and soon she was alone with Richard.
“I admit when I saw Lord Albury last night staring at you, I did not gather he was your husband, but a scoundrel I would have to teach a painful lesson,” he said by way of greeting.
She hurried over to sit on the sofa. “How was he looking at me? By any chance, the way you normally stare at Evie?”
Richard cast her a surprised glance, and before he could reply, Viscount Malfoy entered the library without knocking, looking a bit angry and anxious. A state Phoebe thought unique to the man.
Richard lowered his drink, and he dealt his friend a questioning stare. “What is it, man? I’ve never seen you appeared so rattled.”
“Something strange is happening,” the Sparrow said tightly, walking over to the mantle to pour himself a glass of brandy, which he swallowed in one long drink.
“What?”
“This morning I was paid an early morning call by my banker. Someone has bought my debts. Then my solicitor came around only minutes later, informing me those debts were called in. It is even worse. Three investments that I’ve made, ones that you recommended, I was suddenly closed out of.” A harsh bark of laugh escaped the viscount. “I set out about town to try and find out what the hell is happening. I sent my connections in the underworld to discover any information, and the word that came back to me is that I have grievously wronged someone who is powerfully wealthy to make the world turn at his commands. Rubbish, if you ask me, but upon returning to my townhouse, I’ve discovered someone bought the damn townhouse I was letting, and I no longer have a home.”
Phoebe slowly eased from off the sofa, her heart pounding. She recalled the dark, unfathomable look in her husband’s eyes last night. What she had perceived to be indifference had been possessive anger and ruthless resolve to ensure making Malfoy pay for taking her from Scotland.
Pleasure burst bright and hot inside her heart.
“I can see from your expression that you know what is happening,” Richard said.
Phoebe glanced up to see her brother staring at her coolly, and the Viscount’s eyes narrowed in contemplation.
“It is just a theory on my part,” she murmured, sauntering over to the mantle to pour sherry into a glass. She took a considering sip, staring at the viscount with a deliberate smile hovering on her lips.
“I gather it is more than a theory,” the viscount said tightly. “You look quite pleased at the inconvenience I am experiencing.”
She lifted a shoulder in an inelegant shrug. “You were the one who kidnapped me from my husband and child.”
“At my orders,” Richard interjected smoothly.
“A-Are you saying this is the work of your husband?” the viscount spluttered.
“Yes.” A thought occurred to her. “I wonder what he will do to George!” Phoebe had not a thought of him since she saw her husband last night.
Richard stiffened. “George Hastings?”
“Yes, George,” Phoebe said tartly. “You encouraged him to approach me, and he said some foolish things and kissed me without my permission. My husband saw it all, I suspect.”
The viscount frowned. “I cannot believe this would be your husband. I was watching you last night, Lady Phoebe, and—”
“Lady Albury,” she interjected with a smile, willing to always remind them to whom she was married. “And I cannot understand why you are watching me.”
He had the grace to tug at his cravat as if discomfited. “When Albury saw young George taking liberties, I tell you, Richard, the young earl did not care one jot. He simply held out his hand, she placed hers in his, and they left. He could have issued a private challenge to Mr. Hastings or planted a facer. He did neither! Why should I believe that man is now responsible for my woes?”
Phoebe could not help the delighted laugh that slipped from her.
“You are pleased?” Richard demanded.
“I am terribly pleased that my husband feels something that is not indifference.”
A single knock came on the door, and her husband sauntered inside. Her heart leaped, stuttered, and then began to pound. A surge of longing and an ache travelled through her heart. He had only to be in the same room, and the response came unbidden.
He was astonishingly handsome in dark trousers and jacket, a brilliant blue waistcoat, and an expertly tied cravat. His eyes, so very distant and unaffected, scanned the room, touching briefly on Richard then lingering on her. He smiled briefly in greeting, but the sentiment did not quite reach his eyes. It was like a knife slicing through her. She had fallen in love with a man who obviously desired her, but a man who would never be able to tell her he loved her.
The Sparrow he ignored completely. The insult was subtle but unmistakable.
Was Hugh recalling the fierce way he had tumbled her last night and the wicked way he had made her sob and scream his name? A wave of heat engulfed her face, and she quickly glanced away from his intense stare.
His fingers lifted, and he signed.
“My husband is pleased to make your acquaintance, Richard. Given the hasty and unexpected circumstances of our marriage, he understands why you panicked in your actions to bring me home. He thanks you for your hospitality in having me these last few days and looks forward to meeting with you regularly when we return from Scotland. Our family is currently in mourning, so we will miss the upcoming season. He extends an invitation for you to visit us in Scotland at your earliest convenience,” she translated.